


Puppy Paws

by MostFacinorous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:44:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostFacinorous/pseuds/MostFacinorous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life before and after being burned alive; Life before and after drowning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppy Paws

His arms flexed around her, his skin dusky and dark against her light golden tan.  
They were nearly identical in height, in build, but his hands were so much larger.  
Puppy paws, she'd called them. He'd grow into them.  
He liked that. Liked the idea of slowly becoming bigger than her, slowly developing into someone who could protect her, his strong, beautiful, brilliant girlfriend.  
She shifted, and the sheet slid across her thighs, while a soft humming sound came from her throat.  
'You awake over there, Romeo?' She asked, and he squeezed her tighter for a second, feeling her heart beating strong and steady against the inside of his wrist.  
'Romeo and Juliet died. Let's skip that part of the fairytale, okay?'  
Her laugh was golden, just like her skin, like her hair... warm and beautiful.  
All of her was.

He loved her so much it hurt, sometimes, and that just made him love her even more.  
He had no idea why she would love him, too, but she did. And it was perfect.

It was nice having someone who knew, who understood who he was without being distracted by what he was. And she did.  
She was smart, and funny, good with her hands in so many ways, and she'd been sweet, understanding, gentle, and then, when he needed it, demanding and ruthless.  
He honestly could not imagine anything that would make him adore her more.

'I'd die for you.' He whispered, and she froze, before rolling over in his arms and kissing him, her hand pressed to his face.  
'You'll never have to.' She promised.

She lied.

\-----

It wasn't raining, the day he came home and found out his world had ended. It felt like it should have been, but the sun was shining and it was a crisp fall day, leaves crunching beneath his knees like a distant afterthought as a voice that he didn't really recognize as his own let out a keening howl.

Laura wrapped around him, her arms pulling his back to her chest, her legs on either side of him in an all-inclusive hug, like she was trying to shield him from what they saw.

She didn't know-- hadn't realized yet-- that it was all his fault. The thought struck him like a blow, and brought him out of his thoughts, making him look around wildly for the one person he knew he would see there, the one person he hoped he wouldn’t.

Kate stood a little way off, arms crossed, a tight, triumphant smile on her face as she stared down at them, her stance, her smile, her very presence an admission, not of guilt-- she didn’t feel any-- but of accountability.

Much of the town was there when they’d arrived, was still there when they unburied the cellar. When they pulled them out.

He couldn't stay, couldn't watch. He stood abruptly, shucking Laura like some sort of unwanted blanket.  
He looked down at her dispassionately, and then over at Kate, whose close lipped smile had widened, white teeth stark against the perfect glow of her face. He turned and ran, left Laura crying on the forest floor outside of what had been their home, left her to face the twisted, charred, crumbling remains of what had been their family. Left her alone.

He ran until he fell, got up and ran further. He didn't know where he was going, or where he was, all he knew was what he'd done.

He'd given her a key, so that she could come and see him, showed her all the exits so that she could sneak in unnoticed by his family. Had given her his coat, against the cold, had given her his body, and it had masked her scent.

He'd loved her, loved her so fiercely, he would have died for her, and she'd lied. Betrayed him. He felt like his heart would-- should-- burst. Like maybe, if he kept running, he would die of exertion, or he would finally give up on this pointless quest to try and remember how to breathe-- his chest had no room for his lungs to expand with air now. It was too heavy, to filled with loss and anger and so much guilt.

He collapsed, finally, minutes, hours, maybe days later. Who knew? His chest heaving, legs screaming with pain... it didn't matter. He couldn't go back. Couldn't stand the thought of seeing the hatred on her face when Laura figured it out. Couldn't tell her.  
Couldn't leave her, either.  
She was all he had now, and he was all she had.

Kate had said he would never have to die for her.  
And maybe that was true, in a way-- he still breathed, his heart still pounded, but that wasn't a show of mercy on her part.  
Because part of him had died for her. Because of her. By her hand.  
And living after that sort of death was exactly the sort of punishment he deserved.

\-----

He knew the name of the part of him that had been lost, six years ago. 

It wasn’t just his family, the anchor he’d been taught to use for so long. It wasn’t just his heart, crushed by the woman he’d loved, who he’d thought loved him. It was his humanity.  
Without that anchor, he was volatile, less man and more animal, and for a while there, he was terrified every time he turned that he wouldn’t be able to come back from it. 

Without Laura, maybe he wouldn’t have. 

But now she was gone, too, and he had a new anchor. His hurt, his fear, all of it bowed under the anger that had been growing inside of him for so long. 

Someone had written them an invitation-- a summons-- on the side of a dead deer, and they’d come back to find out why. The answer, however, appeared to be because they wanted them dead. An Alpha wanted him dead. 

He needed a pack. Needed the strength, needed the solidity of that anchor, because anger is powerful, anger burns hot and strong, but it also burns out, and exhausts you, and he needs-- he needs--

He needs Scott, the first new wolf made by the Alpha that killed Laura, and he needs his stupid human friend, Stiles.  
He needs to find the Alpha, kill it, become it... needs to build his own pack. 

But to do that, he needs to relearn what it is to be human. How to talk to people who aren’t his sister, whose insides aren’t as smoke blackened and blistered by betrayal as his are. He needs to learn to harness the wolf again. 

Slowly, he does. 

Slowly he learns a lot, and by the time he’s become an Alpha in his own right, he’s much closer to human, but not there yet. Because he can pretend, and cut back on his snarls, and force smiles onto his face, but he doesn’t feel.

Not yet. 

It’s not until his Betas start to leave him that he allows himself to feel, to mourn his own failures. To mourn the loss of his sister, his family-- it all comes crashing down on him, and he can’t pull himself out of the sea of grief that folds over his head. He can’t disconnect himself from the anchor that is pulling him down, drowning him-- and then, for the second time, it’s Stiles who pulls him up, pulls him out of the water, lets him breathe. 

He’s young, as young as Derek was, but so much smarter, stronger, more thoughtful. He’s seen real pain, faced it, accepted it, and come to triumph over it, then turned around to help those he cares about to find their way through it, too. He’s quick, and brilliant, and makes important decisions quickly. He’s everything Derek should be, on top of what he is, and right now he’s the only person who knows where Derek has been hiding since dealing with the Alpha pack. But he’s still young, not finished becoming himself yet. Just like Derek, though he has a head start. He’s grown into his puppy paws, filled out in all the right places. Now it’s his turn to notice that Stiles’ hands are too large for the rest of him, his turn to wonder what he will turn into.

Stiles talks often, and the things he says are witty, sarcastic, ironic, and usually smart... but the really important things are the things he doesn’t say at all. They’re expressed through a tilt of his head, the quirk of an eyebrow, the slope of his mouth, the weight of his hand on Derek’s shoulder. 

He’d thought it was Scott whose help he needed, thought it was the wolf’s power he needed to grasp, but it was the human; it was Stiles. 

And slowly, he learns again what it is to care openly, to feel. Stiles gentles him back into the world, the way one would a hurt animal. And if he growls, Stiles forgives him, though he will bring it up whenever he sees fit. And if Stiles’ sarcasm stings, he doesn’t snap at him, but he does go quiet sometimes. Stiles lets him, doesn’t push it. 

They start to trust each other, to understand one another. And he starts to be more the man he wanted to be. More like Stiles. More like the Alpha he should have been all along. 

He wants to offer Stiles the bite, but he knows better. Everything is so delicate now, their trust and their truce so carefully balanced. He can’t risk disturbing it. Not like that. But he wants, and it’s the first time in a long time that he does. 

He can be satisfied with that.  
For now.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at MostFacinorous.tumblr.com!


End file.
